


Fits Like a Glove

by Trish47



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Glove Kink, Gloves, Gratuitous Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Leather, Leather Kink, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Office Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trish47/pseuds/Trish47
Summary: Working in a bespoke leather shop, Rey is tasked to complete a rush glove order for Dr. Benjamin Solo. As she becomes intimately familiar with the mold of his hands and the man himself, Rey allows herself to indulge in unexpected fantasies.When Dr. Solo catches a whiff of her desires, he offers to turn them into reality.





	1. The Order

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyJediLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife/gifts).



> This work is completely written. I'll post one chapter each day. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but as usual, these two got carried away. Many thanks to my fellow sprinters, CommanderCrouton for indulging my ridiculous smut ramblings, and to MyJediLife for prompting this fic in the first place (and beta-ing it in the second). Love to all of you!

 

* * *

 

It was still strange to walk into a room filled with body parts -- mostly feet, a dozen heads, and a few sets of hands -- all constructed of polished wood and labeled with numbers. For months, Rey had fetched models for Jyn and Cassian, the owners of the bespoke leather shop who had hired her as the front of house manager and apprentice leatherworker. While Rey had excelled at making patterns from the start, she was still perfecting her sewing techniques.

So, it was with some trepidation that she climbed the ladder to retrieve mold #47: the hands of one Dr. Benjamin Solo.

This would be her first time making a pair of gloves without any supervision, though she’d made close to twenty pairs during her time at the shop. Jyn and Cassian were away at a trade conference when Dr. Solo emailed in a rush order. Rey had, in turn, emailed her boss.

_He’s one of our frequent clients,_ Jyn had responded. _Great guy. Make sure he gets what he wants. You can do this!_

Not wanting to let Jyn down, Rey climbed up a ladder and located the pair of wooden hands on the uppermost shelf in the storage room. She grumbled under her breath at how out of the way they were -- considering he was a long-standing, frequent buyer. Shouldn’t they be easily accessible? Not to mention, she couldn’t recall Dr. Solo ever requesting a pair of gloves while she’d been employed there.

Regardless of her desire to impress Jyn and Cassian, she also couldn't help feeling put out and frustrated: she was going to have to work overtime to get the order done as requested. On a Friday, no less.

Rey unceremoniously reached for the molds. As her fist wrapped around one of the fingers, she let out a startled noise. Pulling the model down to her chest, Rey’s eyes widened. It seemed Dr. Solo had rather. . .large hands. One of his fingers was easily double the thickness of her own, and just three of his long fingers could cover her entire hand.

She whistled low in the quiet storeroom, bringing the left hand down -- no less massive than its brother -- as well. “Nice to meet you,” she said to the pair. Dr. Solo, without a doubt, would have a considerable, powerful handshake. A strange sensation tickled the back of her mind when she realized she may be on the receiving end of said handshake when he came into the store to pick them up tonight.

Oof. _Tonight._ The realization hit her suddenly that she was going to have to actually rush the rush order, which wasn’t an easy task when it came to handmade, fine-quality leather products. Tucking the molds in the front of her work apron and putting her feet on the outside of the rungs, Rey slid down the slanted ladder to the floor in a practiced motion.

“Let’s get to work,” she declared, taking the wooden hands into the back workroom.

 

* * *

 

After quickly generating a pattern, Rey realized Dr. Solo’s email had left a lot to be desired regarding details. She checked one more time -- _black sheepskin, two inches_ gave her only the faintest idea of what he was looking for in the finished product -- before deciding she needed to call and clarify his request.

Tapping her fingers nervously on the countertop, she only had to wait through two tones before a deep voice answered, “Yes?”

She’d been so preoccupied thinking about what his hands would look like in person that she’d completely overlooked what a man with such massive paws would _sound_ like. Rey couldn’t say she was disappointed by the firm, curt baritone.

“Dr. Solo? This is Rey Niima calling from Erso & Andor Custom Leathers. I’m working on your order now and need some further details.” She consciously slowed her speech, knowing her English accent worsened when she was anxious or excited; Finn often told her he wasn’t sure she was speaking the same language when she got worked up about something.

“Ms. Niima--” His voice concentrated to a stern edge. “While Mrs. Erso informed me she wouldn’t be handling my order, she did assure me you were up for the task. My instructions for the gloves were included in my initial email.”

Rey bit into her lip at the know-it-all tone, fighting with herself to remain professional. She’d handled tougher clients than Dr. Solo in her life; she wasn’t going to let him, or his words, rattle her. “With all due respect, sir, you only included a request for black sheepskin with a two inch cuff. There’s no indication of--”

“What did you call me?”

The interruption threw her for a moment. She took a deep breath. “Excuse me?”

“What title of address did you just use?”

What on Earth was this man talking about? Remembering his value as a client, Rey combed her thoughts and came up with, “‘Sir’?”

There was a long pause on the other end, then a soft, “Interesting,” before a gentler request: “Please continue, Ms. Niima.”

It took her another moment to remember what she had been about to say; this man and his voice were playing tricks with her mind. She’d only exchanged a few words with him, but she found herself wanting to keep him on the line for as long as possible. Finally, she remembered her job, “There’s no indication of lining preference, leather quality, or thread or cuff detailing.”

“Silk. Full grain. Matching thread. Single button cuff.”

Rey scrambled to find a notepad take down the information he rattled off with ease, but came up with only a permanent marker. Shifting the office phone to rest between her ear and shoulder, Rey scribbled it down on the back of her hand, then read it back to him to confirm. When he agreed to the order, Rey couldn’t help remarking, “Seems you know precisely what you want, Dr. Solo.”

He laughed lightly on the line. Another odd thrill ran through her at the sound. Maybe he wasn’t so hard after all? “Knowing one’s desires is the only way to attain them. Maintaining high expectations is what garners the greatest satisfaction. I expect you to impress me, Ms. Niima." After a brief pause, he added, "With your craftsmanship.”

“I will, sir,” she assured him. Rey placed the back of her hand against her cheek, feeling an inexplicable rush of heat break out across her skin. “The shop will be locked up when you come over. I won’t be able to hear you knock, and I may not hear the office phone. Would it be okay to give you my cell number?”

“Unconventional, but appreciated, so long as you feel comfortable.”

“I do.” While providing her information, Rey looked at the large circular clock on the wall. She had to get started or she would never finish on time. “Is there anything else, Dr. Solo?”

“One thing,” he confirmed. “I want to extend my gratitude for accommodating me on such short notice. I’m not typically one to expedite artistry. Will you have time for dinner?”

Caught off-guard by the question and the sincerity in his voice, Rey answered truthfully, “Doubtful. A pair of gloves can take upwards of eight hours to complete.”

“See that you eat,” he instructed. “Please, order delivery and credit it to my bill.”

“Dr. Solo--”

He cut off her protest. “No arguments, Ms. Niima. You're seeing to my needs; allow me to see to yours. If it means I wait a little longer, it’s not an inconvenience.”

Well, if he was going to insist, Rey wasn't going to turn down a free meal. Besides, she was going to earn it. Emboldened by the thought and his implied patience, Rey said, "I'll want dessert." It could have been a warning, but her tone was more teasing than serious. "I like cheesecake."

The revelation earned her another light laugh, which made her smile in return. "I am enthusiastically supportive of indulgences."

"Good. I'll get two." Now she was just being cheeky. How had the nervous butterflies in her stomach over having to call an important client morphed into tiny dragons breathing fire in her belly? Rey hadn't even seen Dr. Solo in person. She'd only been introduced to his massive hands and his low, enticing voice.

She needed to get a grip and stop flirting. Coughing to clear her throat, she asked, "Is there anything else, Dr. Solo?"

A low hum sounded over the speaker, and she swore the note vibrated straight from her ear to her toes. "No."

Who knew a single word could elicit such profound disappointment?

"Ms. Niima," he continued, voice dropping to a murmur. "I look forward to meeting you."

"It will be my pleasure, sir.".

"Oh, I assure you, the pleasure will not be one-sided."

Then, without a goodbye or other closing salutation, the line clicked shut, leaving Rey with an open mouth and not a few questions buzzing around her mind. Dr. Solo's responses seemed to imply things beyond the surface, or was she just reading into things too much? It had been a long time -- too damn long -- since she'd been with anyone; maybe she was rusty on identifying and interpreting double entendre.

Snapping out of it with a conscious head shake, Rey turned and made a beeline for the workroom. Above all else, she had to finish these gloves. Not only was it her job, but Rey found she wanted to please Dr. Solo specifically. At the start of the evening, she'd been annoyed. Now that feeling had vanished, sanded away by the pleasant scratch of his voice over the phone.

She wondered what his voice would do to her if his lips were next to her ear instead of the plastic telephone.

"Crunch time, Rey," she reminded herself, gritting her teeth. "You're already in over your head."

Gloves were not as difficult to construct as hats or shoes. They didn't have to be stretched and stiffened or polished to a bright sheen. It wasn't the level of required skill which worried her, only the time ticking away moment by moment.

Rey finally distracted herself from Dr. Solo's delicious voice by focusing on his hands. Keeping the molds at the top of her work station as inspiration, Rey gathered her materials and tools, then began to work the leather. It needed to be shaved and stretched. She pulled and tugged the ends, running the rectangular cloth over a smoothing apparatus until the material felt supple in her hands. While she enjoyed the finished product, this was Rey's favorite step: rendering a rough piece of hide into something beautiful through the use of her hands, her strength. The sweat on her brow and the ache in her upper arms was worth the effort.

Next came tracing and cutting the pattern. Each piece -- the main gloves, the thumb, the fourchettes, and the triangular quirks which, when sewn together, gave the wearer flexibility and a wide range of movement -- needed to be cut out meticulously to avoid fraying or leaving excess leather which the client could feel inside the fingers. Once the leather was cut, she moved on to the silk Dr. Solo had requested as his lining, repeating the process of careful patterning and cutting.

Though it was the easiest step in the process, the ritual stretching and shaping of the hide ate up a solid two hour chunk. She spent only thirty minutes cutting out the silk lining and matching threads she’d use for sewing.

She’d forgotten all about ordering food, absorbed in her work. Sewing perfect seams along each finger required her full, devoted attention. Finally, the strips of leather were beginning to take shape. Maybe she could get these gloves made before midnight after all.

The bell for the shop door rang, announcing someone's arrival. In her distraction, she’d also forgotten to close up the storefront, officially, for the evening. She glanced at her phone and saw it was already eight o’clock. Aware she was alone for the first time, Rey looked around for something she could use as protection. Unfortunately, Jyn and Cassian didn’t keep any weapons in the shop. With dismay, she looked at Dr. Solo’s left hand. It could pack a punch, if she really needed it, though she’d be saddened to ruin the lovely mold.

“You’re coming with me,” she said, picking it up and holding it by the metal base on which it stood upright.

Attempting to carry the mold casually in her hand, Rey walked to the front of the shop, pushing out her “Sorry, we’re closed” apology before the stranger came in full view. In hindsight, it was good she spoke when she did, because the man she saw at the counter stole the breath from her body and almost made her trip down the step behind the front counter.

“That’s a shame,” he said with a shake of his head. “I was so looking forward to meeting the artisan on duty.”

He wore a black on black suit, and yet there were shades and textures in his attire that set the upper layers apart from those underneath. His lapels carried an obsidian sheen, while small raised bumps created a type of plaid pattern on his collared shirt. The only things that weren’t black were his cufflinks; they were made of silver -- sterling, she assumed -- and in the shape of stars.

The dark coloring didn’t end with his clothing; his hair, too, was a drape of black velvet. Even his eyes were a deep brown.

“Dr. S-Solo?” she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

He made a near imperceptible nod, the corner of his mouth twitching with muted humor. “Ms. Niima.”

She’d given so much thought to his hands and his voice, Rey thought the rest of him hardly mattered. Hoo boy, had she been wrong. So wrong. Doctor Benjamin Solo was sex appeal made flesh and wrapped in a suit of sin.

His eyes traveled to the wooden mold in her hand. “Is that mine?”

Rey’s gaze followed his. Realizing what she held, she quickly set it on the counter with a loud _thunk_ , wincing at the sound. Her empty hand flexed, then smoothed over her work apron before moving up to her hair. Wonderful, it was a mess by the feel of it -- flyaways everywhere.

It wasn’t that she was hoping to look _pretty_ in the face of his attractiveness; she merely wanted to come across as some level of professional -- or so she told herself when she wet her lips before speaking again.

“Yes, it is,” she confirmed, glancing again at the mold and then at the man. Her cheeks heated, incapable of processing their relation to one another. “I’m in the middle of stitching your gloves, sir. I wasn’t expecting you for a few hours.”

“I am indecently early,” he acknowledged to put her at ease, then lifted one eyebrow to add, “And I’m afraid, Ms. Niima, that I must make an even more indecent request of you.”

When she propped her hand on the counter, she hoped it came off as an expression of playful exasperation, not because her legs lost their balance and she needed the support. The lump in her throat would not budge, so Rey croaked around it. “A request?”

“Yes.” Unbuttoning his suit jacket while keeping his eyes on her, Dr. Solo withdrew a slim rod by unbuckling a loop at his waist. Cradling it in both hands, he held it up in the shop’s dimmed lighting, stroking his left hand up the shaft to the blunt end. A bit of cord dangled loosely, and the small piece of folded leather was clearly missing. “My crop is in hopeless need of a new tongue.”

"Ah," she responded, her own tongue thick in her mouth, "I see."

"Will it be too much trouble to fix it?"

"May I?" Rey extended a hand for the crop. As he turned it over to her possession, their bare hands brushed. Rey's knuckles whitened around the shaft, almost yanking it from his grip. She didn't dare look at his face -- fearing the knee-melting grin she was sure would be there -- but applied herself to an overly-thorough inspection of the crop's tip. "I can fix this," she agreed after a moment. "Should only take half an hour."

"Excellent."

Rey finally had to meet his eyes or risk coming across as rude. Dark irises, swirled with warm sweeps of brown and flecked here and there with gold, watched her with something like intrigue. Setting the crop on the counter between them, Rey placed one hand on the side of her neck, rubbing the back as she gave him an equally curious once-over. Her pulse beat wildly beneath her palm, but she didn't want to give away how nervous he was making her. He stood patiently under her blatant observation.

"Dr. Solo?"

"Yes, Ms. Niima?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Though she didn't hear him take a step, his body swayed forward into her space.

"Do you show horses?"

"Ah," he said. The single note carried a note of dark, mischievous humor. "You want to know the reason behind my order." He stood a little straighter, professional now, and with a proud square to his shoulders. "Yes, I am an accomplished equestrian."

Just as Rey exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding captive, the man's eyes pierced her with a devious gaze. He leaned back in and continued in a murmur, "But this particular set I'm having made for. . .personal use."

If she swallowed now, it would be with an audible gulping noise. Even without that particular tell, Rey could feel her face go scarlet at the implication in his voice. _Personal use._

Her mind became a gully flooded by a torrent of naughty images and flash fantasies of Dr. Solo doing wicked things while wearing his custom gloves and wielding his repaired crop. He wasn't alone in her tantalizing thoughts either: it was Rey's skin beneath the dark leather, seizing after a swift snap from his crop before he soothed the smart with his glove's soft touch.

"Ms. Niima?"

His prompt jarred her from her lusty imaginations. She seriously needed to get laid. . .but that wasn't something she was going to announce to her client -- no matter how gorgeous. "Right," she said, shaking out her haze. "Personal use. None of my business."

"It could be," Dr. Solo said as he raised his left arm and glanced at a watch-face bigger than a half dollar. "Some other time, perhaps. It's getting late. I should let you return to your work."

"I hope my work will please you, Dr. Solo."

He paused, gripping the shop door's handle, and looked back at her. "There isn't a doubt in my mind I'll be pleased."

Though he left on a short nod, Rey could almost hear his voice curl around the words he left unspoken: _by you_.

Reaching for the wooden mold of the doctor's hand, Rey headed back to the workroom feeling more wobbly than before, as though she'd had too much to drink. Rubbing against the seam of her leggings, a damp patch at the apex of her thighs begged her to please him to the point he'd consider returning the favor.

Instead of shaming herself for being turned on after their first meeting, Rey's lips set into a determined line. She was going to make the best damn gloves of her life, and then she was going to ask for what "personal use" he intended to use them. Hell, if she was bold enough, maybe -- just maybe -- she would request a demonstration.


	2. The Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glove kink in full force.

Even with her fresh daring, the gloves took two more hours to complete. Stitching by hand was tedious, though Rey picked up speed as she went along, gaining confidence each time she pierced the leather and silk, marrying the contrasting fabrics. Dr. Solo had chosen simple, elegant detailing, which meant less work for her, thank goodness.

When the right glove was finished, she stretched it over the mold to punch out the fingers, then started the left. She zoned out during the repetitive motions -- in and out, up and down, again and again -- lost in her earlier sinful thoughts. The ones where Dr. Solo dragged the crop's tongue from her chest, down the center of her taut stomach, ending at the juncture of her thighs with a sharp smack. Her inner muscles clenched, imagining the sting she'd feel against her sex before Dr. Solo knelt and used his mouth to kiss it away.

It made her ache.

By the time she had the left glove done, Rey could feel how slick she'd become. It only got worse as she turned her attention to repairing the crop. The ache escalated to a throb, until she couldn't stand it anymore. Something had to be done to satisfy the itch Dr. Solo had stoked to life. Rey realized the better part of a year had passed since she’d touched herself -- too focused on work and honing her craft -- let alone had anyone else's hands on her.

Now she could imagine someone trailing his large, thick fingers over her skin, even if she was ultimately in charge of the manual stimulation.

Putting the fixed crop on the worktop, Rey unlaced her apron and sat on the edge of her bar stool. She never thought she'd find herself here: in a position where masturbating at work was not only a consideration, but a necessity. Infinitely glad there were no cameras in the workroom to see what she was about to do, she closed her eyes. Her cheeks, already flushed from her imaginings, went a few shades deeper, tipping toward red.

"You're doing this," she muttered. "You _need_ to do this. Or you'll be a blubbering idiot when he comes back."

Dr. Solo's tall, wide frame flashed across her vision, and she bit down a moan. While her left hand toyed with the crop's shaft, her other hand traveled south, over her belly and her leggings, cupping herself through the thin fabric as though getting reacquainted. Her body purred in response, hips jutting forward into her touch, pressing her fingers closer.

She was so wet. Her dampness soaked through her leggings and underwear combined. "Fuck, Rey," she breathed, blushing more fiercely. Is that what Dr. Solo would say if he felt her? Would he be pleased?

As she began to rub circles over the fabric, Rey realized the stool was never going to work. In all likelihood, she'd tip backward, fall, and crack her head on the floor. She had no plans for Dr. Solo to find her unconscious with her hand stuffed down her panties.

His visage seared across her vision again, and Rey pitched forward off of the stool, propping herself against the worktop with her stronger arm. Switching the task to her left, she slipped it under the waistband of her leggings, fumbled with the elastic of her underwear, and finally found the hot spot craving her touch. A groan tumbled over her lips. Her chest dipped closer to the worktop; the new position allowed her to peer up at the gloves stretched over Dr. Solo's molded hands.

Huge, massive hands. Strong hands.

Rey's body burned, wanting to feel Dr. Solo's touch in place of her own. He'd reach deeper inside her than she ever could, stroke things no one else had. The thought made her lightheaded as she continued to circle her fingers over her clit. While the sensation was good, it wasn't what she wanted.

She wanted those fucking gloves.

She debated only a moment before withdrawing her hand and reaching for the soft leather. Considering her left hand was already slick and she didn't want to completely ruin the interior silk, Rey chose the right glove and slid her fingers inside: two of hers fit snugly in one of his.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, thinking what having two of his thick fingers pump in and out of her would feel like. Using her ungloved hand, Rey bunched her leggings and panties around her knees, then bent over until her chest pressed against the station. This is exactly how she'd want him to take her, she thought: bent over and from behind.

With a low, blissful moan, she inserted the single leather digit slowly. Her body jerked against the odd intrusion, then relaxed around the foreign feeling. She twisted her fingers from side to side, exploring the new sensation. Other than silicone, latex, and skin, she'd never had another material come in intimate contact with her sex. It thrilled her in a way she couldn't begin to comprehend.

The glove's thumb was too large for her more slender digit to fill sufficiently, which made it difficult to simultaneously stimulate her clit and work her fingers in and out. She needed rhythm to build toward a release; she needed consistency.

During a frustrated growl, Rey's phone vibrated in her apron pocket. Startled, she pulled her fingers away from her center and searched for her phone using her left hand. The number on the screen was unfamiliar, but the message could only have come from one person.

"I'm outside. Let me in?"

 

* * *

 

Rey brought the new and repaired items with her from the workroom, gloves in one hand, crop in the other. The sweat along her hairline had cooled, though it did little to help how overheated she felt. She glanced down at the gloves again, biting her lip in indecision. Only feet from the shop’s main floor, she had to decide if she should stash the gloves in storage. She could say she’d made some grievous error and beg Dr. Solo to let her work through the night on a new pair.

Her feet propelled her forward before her brain could react to her fear. It was something she’d done since she was little -- walked into the lion’s den without considering how to conquer the lion -- and she’d come this far in her life mostly unscathed. Besides, the glove she’d used to masturbate didn't appear damaged in any way. Her speedy cleanup job had taken care of any visible signs of what she’d done.

Guilt was the only thing heightening her anxiety; it was all in her head. She’d present the gloves, take his money, and send him on his way -- just like any other client.

“Dr. Solo,” she greeted with a smile, feigning a yawn in an attempt to hurry the closing process. “Perfect timing. I just finished with your items.”

His responding smile made her dizzy. “I can’t thank you enough for your time and effort, Ms. Niima. May I try them on?”

What was she supposed to tell him? No? “Of course.”

Instead of turning them over to him, Rey set the crop on the counter, tucked one glove under her arm and opened the wrist of the other, holding it at waist level for him. Dr. Solo quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected assistance, but he carefully inserted his hand into the new leather. She repeated the process with the other glove.

They fit like a second skin.

“Fuck,” Rey swore under her breath.

“Pardon me?”

She glanced up at his face, almost bumping the crown of her head on his chin. So much for professionalism. “Nothing,” she stammered, blinking rapidly as she thought of a way to spin her instinctual response. “You have beautiful hands, Dr. Solo.”

He reached down and captured her fingers in a light grip, applying the gentlest of pressures. “No more beautiful than the hands which crafted these gloves.”

All of a sudden, her hand began rising toward his face -- his lips. If he kissed her knuckles, he’d find out what she’d done. Her scent would be fresh on the sheepskin despite her efforts to hide it.

"No!" She snatched her hand away.

Dr. Solo’s spine straightened, clearly taken aback by the abrupt movement and half-shout. Pale face blanching further, his hand continued to move up, as if about to search for the source of her protest. “Is there something wrong with my--?”

“No!” she shouted again, louder this time, and grasped his hand before the glove could get too close to his nose. “Please, sir. Nothing is wrong.”

“Your distress says otherwise.” He looked down at where she held onto his hand. “Is it something with the glove?”

Delicately, he used his other hand to break free of her grip. Rey fought the urge to hide her face in her palms, pinning her arms against her sides. Her mouth parted on a worried breath as Dr. Solo inspected the glove first with his eyes. Seeing no imperfection, he rubbed the fingertips together. Last -- to her abject horror -- he raised the glove to his nose and breathed in. She watched his brown eyes shift, widening in shock, then narrowing.

Rey thought he’d drop his hand in disgust. At the very least she expected a scowl to settle on his lips.

Dr. Solo inhaled again, slower. Deeper.

Rey pressed her fingertips against her flaming cheeks, trying to hide her utter mortification. Was that. . . _desire_ she saw flashing in his eyes? All at once, she wished to see inside his mind and to run away from the rest of this conversation. There was no chance that her weakened knees would support her escape plan, though.

“Ms. Niima,” Dr. Solo said in a measured tone, “Would you like to know why leather holds such appeal to me?”

Held captive by his gaze, she could only give the slightest nod.

As he continued speaking, Dr. Solo strode around the counter, removing the wooden and glass barrier between them. Rey pivoted in place in order to face him, releasing her arms back to her sides.

“It’s a humble material,” he expanded, “yet, in the right hands, leather can transform into something sleek and supple. Some may even say… _sensual_.”

Her brain couldn’t wholly process his words at this proximity, let alone try to read into any meaning behind his monologue. The only word that pinged in her head was _sensual._ In another breath, Dr. Solo stood fully in front of her, erasing even that word from her mind. It was as though she were wearing blinders which forced her to focus dead ahead -- straight into his expansive chest. Rey stared at the gleaming black buttons holding together his black shirt, unwilling to meet his eyes while mentally compromised. At some point between their first encounter and now, he’d unbuttoned the top two, showing a hint of skin. Rey kept her attention on the V the opening created.

“The thing about leather, Ms. Niima, is it remembers," he continued in his mesmerizing voice. "Once it has you, it holds on."

He knew. God, he _knew_.

"I can explain," Rey blurted out, hands unsure whether to clench at her sides, hide her face, or bunch the fabric stretched over his chest in a plea for forgiveness. Running away wasn't an option; she was going to have to face this head on and apologize somehow.

"Oh, yes," Dr. Solo concurred. "I think an explanation is in order."

She did her best not to squirm under his intense observation, but it was impossible. If she'd been able to keep a modicum of self control, Rey wouldn't have to confess to anything. At the same time, admitting to what she'd done also stirred something within her; getting caught made her feel _naughty_ in a thrilling way. Just like that, the itch she hadn't quite scratched flared up again.

"Ms. Niima?"

She picked at her nails and twisted her fingers together, unable to hide her fidgeting any longer. "The gloves. . .they're damaged," she said, then licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry. "They got wet."

He paired his stern stare with a roll of his jaw. It looked like he might be trying to bite back a smile, though she was too preoccupied with how his teeth tracked over his lower lip to think too hard. He had some of the most luscious lips she'd ever seen -- full and pink and more than kissable.

He parroted back her response as a question, pausing to emphasize the last word: "They got ‘ _wet_ ’?"

"I accidentally--" Any lie she tried would be immediately exposed under his scrutiny. She was so fucked. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

"What, Ms. Niima? Accidentally dropped them deep into your dripping cunt?" Rey's stomach bottomed out at his blunt statement. He made a tsking noise. "What a tragedy."

Cheeks flaming, she spiraled, swaying where she stood. "Dr. Solo, please--" She'd lose her job -- along with her dignity -- if he reported her. Her eyes implored him to hear her out. "God, please don't tell Jyn or Cassian."

Dr. Solo stood so close now she could smell his cologne -- a light, undoubtedly expensive fragrance with notes of bergamot and cedar -- over the permeating scent of leather. "The only comment I'll be making to your bosses is how incredibly talented you are. Your work," he added in a reverent tone, openly admiring the gloves on his hands, "is impeccable. I've never seen their equal."

Her eyes dropped to the ground, unfamiliar with such blatant praise. Jyn and Cassian were supportive, of course, but they didn't look at her like Dr. Solo did. He made breathing a challenge; his gaze rested heavily on her, and Rey couldn't understand why it was full of _desire_ instead of _disgust_. Disappointment, at the very least. After all, he'd needed the gloves for an event the following day.

Still looking at the floor, she whispered, "I can make you a new pair," she assured him. "I'll stay all night if you need them tomorrow."

The side of his index finger nudged under her chin, persuading Rey to raise her head. "I cancelled my previous engagement prior to coming here."

"You can--." Leather smoothed along her jawline, one finger swiping from left to right, then back toward the center. Rey's heart fluttered at the tenderness. "Why?"

He brought his other fingers to cup her chin, holding her in place, but he hardly needed to touch her: his beautiful, dark eyes captured her all on their own. "I had another matter that I felt needed my full, undivided attention."

Her breathing shallowed, coming in short puffs of air. "What?"

He applied the slightest pressure to her face. "You."

As he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes fell to her lips. The only way to describe the expression on his face was unadulterated hunger. For her lips. Mercy, he was going to kiss her. Rey stopped breathing in anticipation, eyelids fluttering shut.

Except his mouth didn't descend on hers. Disappointed, Rey opened her eyes again to find him staring straight at her with the same starved look. "May I kiss you?"

"Isn't it obvious how badly I want you to?" If he didn't have such a good hold on her chin, she'd probably have pressed her mouth to his already. Did he need an invitation?

Apparently so. "There's one thing you must know about me before we move forward, Ms. Niima. Consent is not only important to me. It is essential. Do you understand?"

"Yes." At his slight squeeze, Rey added, "Sir."

"Good girl." His fingers slid back along her jaw, cupping the entire thing in his large hand. His thumb caressed her cheek. "Do I have your consent?"

She stared into his eyes, on the verge of saying yes without a second thought. But an internal voice told her to pause and breathe, to use her head now before she lost it completely. Rey knew she'd melt as soon as his lips touched hers; her body was like a cord pulled taut and ready to snap at the faintest pressure. "I have conditions," she managed to say.

His grip on her jaw eased, and his hand cupped the nape of her neck instead, obliging Rey to tilt her head back to look at him. "I'm listening, Ms. Niima."

And he was. She had his undivided attention. "First, no more 'Ms. Niima.' My name is Rey. Use it."

"Noted."

If he was going to drop his formal title, this was his chance. When he said nothing else, however, Rey continued: "Second--" She wrinkled the lapels of his suit and stepped back, dragging him with her into the hallway, "We do this where the cameras can't see us."

"Yes," he agreed, allowing her to lead him along a few feet. "Anything else?"

She worried her lip over the last item. It could bring a halt to everything, and they hadn’t even kissed yet. "I'm not on birth control."

Dr. Solo smirked at her. “I wasn’t aware that was necessary for a kiss."

She pushed his chest until he bumped against the wall opposite to the storage room. The two of them standing together nearly filled the narrow hallway. Rey’s pointer finger flicked one of his shirt’s black buttons. “It’s for what comes _after_ the kiss.” Her eyes met his as if challenging him to deny it. This was going somewhere, and it was best they acknowledge that now.

His features softened as he ghosted his fingers up her neck and feathered them over her lips. "I have us covered," he promised. "Now, Rey, do I have your consent?"

"To kiss me?"

"Yes." It was almost a growl.

Her pulse grew thready at the dark desire in his eyes. She could get used to that look -- like she was a tall, cool drink waiting for a man who'd traversed a desert to reach her. She ran her tongue over her lower lip self-consciously, praying they weren't chapped. Dr. Solo's eyes tracked the movement, head dipping until his lips were mere centimeters away from hers.

Her "yes" came out as a hiss of air. It was immediately cut off by the surge of his mouth against her lips. Though she thought she was ready, holding out on her answer until she was prepared, she was wrong. His lips were so soft and warm, yet he wasn't gentle. There was no hesitation, only finesse. Dr. Solo used her gasp of surprise to deepen the kiss, barely giving her a chance to recover her breath.

One of his gloved hands was in her hair, the other gripping her waist and drawing her body flush against his. They traveled backwards a step, and Rey found her spine against the wood paneling. The jolt of the collision kick-started her brain again, allowing her to process and respond to the sensory overload flooding her system.

There was just so much of him. Rey was, by no means, a small woman. Still, Dr. Solo's body caged hers. Her hands traveled up his broad back, fingernails digging into the suit fabric stretching over his shoulders. She could feel the muscles there move as he changed the angle of their heads, granting him greater access to the recesses of her mouth. His tongue delved in and explored everything she had, brushing against hers in a way that persuaded it to respond.

Desperate for air, Rey's hands roamed up from his shoulders and into his dark mane, tugging on fistfuls of hair until he had to tip his head back. She was pleased to hear the ragged catch to his breath -- evidence she wasn't the only one affected by the kiss. Not wanting to slow things too much, Rey nipped his bottom lip lightly, then dragged the edge of her teeth over his chin and down the column of his throat. She followed the path back halfway with the flat of her tongue, pausing to suck to the left of his Adam's apple.

"Christ, Rey," he breathed. Both of his hands were now at her waist. Nudging her legs apart with one knee, he ground his hips forward, making sure she could feel how hard he was.

"Fu--" she moaned as she encouraged the motion, rocking into him. The friction of his thigh between her legs made her tremble with want. One hand abandoned his hair to slide over his concealed length. "Did I do that?"

The awe in her voice must have sounded like doubt because his hands came up to frame her face, spanning over her cheeks and ears. His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it. "You are beautiful, Rey. An enchantress." His fingers carded into her hair, curling against her scalp, while he ground his cock into her hand in one long, slow thrust. "Yes, you did this. You've captivated me since our phone call this afternoon. I haven't been able to shake you from my thoughts."

"Did you want to?"

His hold on her hair tightened until it was at the edge of painful. "No."

Rey slid her palms over the front of his shirt, stopping when they could feel his heartbeat. It didn't thunder like her own, but pulsated in a steady, determined rhythm. It calmed her, breaking through the daze of their kiss. Heat spread across her cheeks as she revealed, "I've been thinking of you all day. You and. . .your hands."

A slow, wicked grin curved one side of his mouth. "My hands?" He trailed one down the side of her neck, along her clavicle, and pressed it firmly against the wide valley between her breasts. It felt like an anchor. "Is that what you were imagining when you touched yourself?"

Her cheeks blazed. On either side of his hand, her nipples hardened into peaks, straining for his touch. So close. He'd only have to rotate his fingers to the left or right and--

"Rey?"

She inhaled, relishing the weight against her chest. "Dr. Solo?"

"I want you to show me." He lifted his hand and used the other to pluck the glove from his fingers. Now bare, he reached for her right hand and enclosed the black leather in her fist. "Will you show me how you touched yourself?"

Already struggling with thoughts and words, Rey's head swam with possible answers to his request. It was perhaps the dirtiest, yet most intimate, thing anyone had ever asked of her, especially after only knowing each other a few hours.

Though her cheeks were inflamed from his previous question, this one made her heat in an entirely different way. As she tugged the glove over her hand, Rey could feel her wetness return with lightning speed. "I'll show you," she agreed, "But we'll have to go to the workroom."

Dragging her gloved hand over his chest, she effectively turned them both in that direction. She could feel his eyes roving up and down her back; the thought crossed her mind to attempt a sashay or to swing her hips in dramatic fashion, but walking without falling over was enough of a challenge already.

The worktop had supplies scattered in every direction around the vague outline of a body, and the man behind her took notice. "My, my," he remarked. "What happened here?"

Rey swallowed and brought her chest to the work top, sticking her ass out in the air with no sense of shame. Peeking over her shoulder, she asked, "You want to see? Really?"

His fists tightened at his sides, giving her the impression he was restraining himself from touching her. "Please."

She hadn't expected the soft word falling from his lips like a plea. She'd pegged him as a hard, dominant man; this was a glimpse of another layer, something beneath his dark, controlled exterior.

It was the "please" that made her slide her leggings and underwear down to her knees in one fluid motion.

Dr. Solo took a sharp breath. When she reached between her legs and used her middle finger to stroke a line along her cunt, he swayed a step closer. "You’re so eager to satisfy me, Rey. It’s incredibly sexy. Fuck."

To say she had a captive audience was an understatement. He knelt behind her, resting on his heels so his eyeline was directly at crotch level. "Such a perfect little pussy. Pink and glistening.” He lowered his voice in an instruction: “Proceed."

Rey's teeth sank into her lower lip as she inserted her middle finger with ease. She was so wet, there was barely any friction involved. Still, she moaned at the feeling as she pumped the digit in and out. Her thumb returned to its unfinished job, rubbing over her clit and sending sparks of desire shooting into her lower abdomen.

"Good girl, Rey."

The words lanced through her and made her clench around the finger sheathed inside her. She mewled at the praise, grinding back against her hand and adding a second finger, seeking the high which he'd interrupted by showing up early. The double-thick layer of glove stretched her more than her initial attempt, drawing a strangled groan from her throat.

"That's it," he encouraged. The tell-tale sound of a zipper sounded behind her, and Rey glanced back again, watching him step out of his pants. He laid them carefully over the nearby stool, then removed his suit coat and placed it on top. "Focus on yourself, Rey," he instructed, though there was a hint of mirth in his voice. "Does it feel good?"

She circled her thumb over her clit again, and her eyes squinted shut at the shock of it. "Yes."

When she opened them again, he was unbuttoning and rolling the cuffs of his black shirt up his forearms, face contemplative. He looked as if he was preparing for a demonstration. After a moment, his eyes ran from her face to her exposed sex and back again. Softly, he said, "Rey, when I ask you a question, I'd like for you to address me like you did on the phone."

She thought for a moment, remembering the way his hand had squeezed her chin in the front room. "‘Sir’?"

His gaze locked on hers, and a pleased smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Yes, precisely. Would that be okay? I find that it adds to the experience."

 _Experience._ That's what sex with Dr. Solo was going to be: a fucking experience. She didn't have to consider long before responding, "Yes, Sir," with a grin of her own.

By now he had both sleeves rolled to the elbow and had methodically unfastened the line of buttons down the front of his shirt. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. Rey's ass sagged as her knees collapsed, one hitting the side of the station she laid across.

Dammit, he was even more attractive than she'd pictured in her mind, built of solid muscle like a marble statue she'd seen at a museum. His pale skin was nearly the same shade, too. Her eyes kept moving south, until she saw the bulge in his close-fitted boxers.

"Are you for real?"

He smiled again as he approached from behind her. "You're distracted," he chided gently, adding, "May I touch you?"

"Yes, Sir."

The automatic response earned her another smile and a murmur of: "Good girl. You learn quickly."

His bare hand skimmed over the curve of her ass, convincing her knees to agree with her again and help her push up into his touch. He caressed each cheek, squeezing the left lightly before sliding down the back of her thigh. His hand was so close to where she wanted it. So, so close -- but, infuriatingly, not close enough.

A whimper tumbled from her kiss-swollen lips as Dr. Solo repeated the motion on her right thigh. "Shh," he soothed. "I'm going to take care of you, Rey."

Withdrawing her finger, Rey rubbed her three center fingers over her slick folds, unable to concentrate on any focused pressure when he was stroking her ass, legs, and lower back so attentively. "I trust you."

"Do you? Why?"

"I--" She cut herself off. She didn't know how to explain her reasoning. Dr. Solo was nearly a complete stranger. Hell, she didn't even know what profession he was a doctor in. And yet, she did trust him, totally. Unable to come up with anything concrete she offered, "Instinct."

Aligning himself directly behind her, Dr. Solo gripped the sides of her hips, running his thumbs over her dimples. "I hope I can give you a better reason than 'instinct,' but it will do for now."

He leaned over her, chest nearly parallel to her back, and reached up to swipe her hair away from the nape of her neck. Rey turned her head to the side and was rewarded with his lips. They were gentler than they'd been in the hallway, but intense all the same. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, then sucked her bottom lip before switching his focus to the top. Rey's hand continued to rub over her clit, but it wasn't going to be enough. She wanted something inside of her -- and not just _something_. She wanted _him_.

Dr. Solo seemed to read her frustration without her having to say a word. He pulled back, placing a light kiss to her cheek, then the corner of her eye, the top curve of her ear. He paused at the last to whisper a question. "Tell me, Rey: did you get yourself off? Did you come all over the beautiful glove you made for me?"

Desire shot straight down her spine and to the very core of her. His voice was enticing enough at full volume; as a whisper, it became a weapon. It would ruin her. The next turn of her fingers over her clit elicited a sharp cry. "Shit," she exclaimed. She shook her head. "No. No, Sir. I didn't get off. I didn't orgasm."

He hummed softly in a note of disappointment. "That won't do."

"You interrupted me," she protested.

He stood upright again, trailing his large hand down her spine over her top's fabric. What she wouldn't give to remove the barrier and feel his heat unobstructed. "If I'm at fault for that, it's only fair that I make up for it, right?"

Emboldened, Rey brought both hands to the worktop and pushed her backside into his pelvis, finding his cock at full attention. "You'd better."

He laughed and indulged her with a slow thrust that dragged his concealed length along her folds. She moaned in response. "Not yet, sweetheart," he told her. "Let's finish what you started first. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Wonderful," he purred. "Stick that beautiful pink cunt out for me, Rey."

She dropped her chest back to the station and lifted herself on her tiptoes. The pose felt scandalous enough, but as Dr. Solo continued to lavish her body with praise, her stomach fluttered with all new kinds of thrills.

"You're so temptingly wet for me," he went on. "Do you have any idea how proud that makes me? How much it turns me on to know I caused this reaction?"

On the last question, the middle finger of his gloved hand stroked a long line between her inner labia, sliding along the slickest part of her. And, oh, did he get a reaction from that.

" _Fuck._ " It was only the first in a string of expletives to stutter from her mouth. When he had coated his finger with her, he inserted it all the way to the last knuckle. As she'd expected, just one of his was enough to mimic the thickness of two of her own. "Exactly like that," she panted.

"You only used one finger?" he asked. "You had two in before."

"Two," she confirmed. "But--"

Before she could explain the obvious difference between their hands, she felt a second finger inch inside to join the first. Rey's spine arched and flattened again until the top half of her body pooled against the station's counter.

"Two is better, yes?"

"Yes."

He twisted his fingers until the pads pointed toward the ground, then curled them, stroking her inner walls in a way that made her want to buck back into his touch. "Yes what, sweetheart?" He repeated the caress as if trying to coax the word from her; it was the sweetest punishment.

Rey whined to cope with the new sensation, but managed to squeak out another "Yes, sir."

His bare hand bunched her shirt up to her bra's band, palm smoothing over her back. Pinching the two sides of the band together, he released the clasps holding her bra together. Meanwhile, his gloved fingers began to pump in and out of her. The wet leather, coupled with her drenched entrance, made a loud squelch each time he pushed into her. It made color rush to her cheeks, but her embarrassment was overcome by a wanton groan. Rey buried her face in the side of her arm, teeth worrying her skin as she tried to control herself.

"Feels. . .so good."

"Not good enough to make you come," he countered. Increasing his pace, Dr. Solo reached for her right hand, loosely grasping her wrist and directing it to the edge of the worktop. "Touch yourself, Rey. I want you to saturate these gloves with your cum."

He punctuated his last comment with a powerful thrust of his fingers, and Rey cried out. She wasn't as far away from her orgasm as he thought. As soon as she followed his instruction and found her swollen clit with her gloved fingers, the heat in her lower belly began to grow into a full-fledged fire.

It took a moment for Rey to find a rhythm that matched the one Dr. Solo set, but when she did, it made her mouth drop open in a stuttered cry. Her legs shook. Perspiration collected in a line across her lower back, and the front of her shirt stuck to the sweat on her chest. She circled her fingers over the bundle of nerves with more force, adding pressure to compliment the strength of his thrusts. With what little control she had over her body, Rey attempted to push back against his hand.

Her mind tunneled on the sensations of their combined efforts. Each movement sharpened and burned, making her gasp. "I'm--" She was going to say _close_ , or warn him that she was about to come, but she was already walking the edge of that thin line.

His voice tipped her over: "Now, Rey. Shatter for me."

She listened.

With a cry, she came apart. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, as if trying to hold herself together while trying to make him a permanent part of her physiology. Dr. Solo’s fingers continued to stoke the fire inside her. His free hand roamed up her back, massaging away the lingering tension as she floated down from her high. This was exactly what she had wanted, what she’d been imagining since she’d begun her work on his gloves.

“Thank you,” she breathed out, using what remained of her strength to prop herself up to a near upright position. Dr. Solo’s fingers were still hooked inside of her, and straightening up made her cunt feel even fuller. She inclined her head over her shoulder, reaching her right hand over her shoulder to touch his face. “Thank you, Sir.”

He leaned forward to kiss her, but got distracted by the glove on his face. He turned his nose into her palm and took a deep breath. “You smell divine,” he remarked. “I want to know how you taste.”


	3. The Experience

Was he offering to go down on her? Now? She was still shaking with little aftershocks when his fingers caressed her more sensitive spots inside of her. If his mouth got involved, Rey wasn’t sure she could stand it. Flushed from her orgasm more so than her sudden shyness -- really, having his face between her legs after a long day, while hot in concept, was too much -- Rey’s hand brought him down for a gentle kiss. “I’m not up for that right now, Dr. Solo,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt when she saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes. It was gone before she finished saying, “I’m sorry.”

He pressed another light kiss to her lips, then her cheek. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. I want to give you what you want. And only what you want.”

"I don't know how these things typically go," Rey began, "but, sex should be a mutual exchange."

Finally, Dr. Solo removed his fingers from her, allowing Rey to stand at her full height and turn around to face him. "Rey, what we're doing. . ." He tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "It's nothing like I'm used to. Typically, my encounters are much more controlled."

She understood. Or thought she did. He was admitting a level of vulnerability, and it tugged at her heart more than it had any right to. She licked her lips and said, "Me too." Her bare palm pressed flat on his chest and she shook her head to clarify: "I mean, I don't do this kind of thing often." Another corrective shake. "Ever. But," -- her fingers walked up his chest and curved around the side of his neck -- "I don't want it to stop either."

His expression could only be considered a smolder. "What _do_ you want, Rey?"

She swallowed, but stuck to her guns. This was about him now -- if only for a moment. "Uh-uh. It's your turn, Dr. Solo. You wanted to taste me, didn't you?"

His eyes narrowed while one eyebrow inclined. "I thought you weren't up to it?"

She frowned briefly. "I'm not." Her clit had its own refractory period, and after the friction from the leather -- as wonderful as it was in the heat of things -- any stimulation would be more painful than pleasurable. Her hand sought his own, bringing the glove he'd had inside of her up to his face. Even in the dim light, she could see the remnants of her orgasm. "But you can still taste me."

Rey manipulated his hand until only his middle and pointer fingers stood out, then pressed them to his closed lips. Then, without hesitating, she lowered herself to her knees, running both hands up his bare thighs to the waistline of his boxer briefs. Her fingers curled under the elastic pointedly. When she glanced up at him, she hoped it was a smirk he saw on her lips.

"And _I_ can taste _you_ ," she finished. "That's what I want."

For a moment -- the longest of her twenty-two years -- Dr. Solo did nothing. She wasn't even sure he was breathing. No part of him moved. Even his eyes refused to blink.

And then he parted his lips, splitting his fingers down the middle with the tip of his tongue and licking a long strip all the way to the ends. His mouth closed over the digits with an approving moan, leaving Rey utterly lost. What had she been about to do? Why hadn't she let this man use his beautiful mouth and tongue on her?

Oh right, his dick. That's what she really wanted. In her hands, in her mouth, in her cunt -- preferably in that order. Her desired sequence would never happen if she didn't free his hard-on from his underwear first.

In one smooth motion, she stripped them from his body to pool at his feet. His cock fell in front of her eyes, still erect. She couldn't imagine waiting so long for release, considering he'd been hard since they kissed in the hallway. Rey drank in the sight of him, longer and thicker than anything she'd ever had before. Gently, she tipped the underside of his cock to aim at her face, then wrapped her right hand around him at the root.

She gave him one long stroke with her gloved hand, glancing up at him to read his expression; there was discomfort written across his forehead that made her pause. "What is it?"

"Too dry," he responded after a breath. "Spit. Use spit."

In lieu of lube, Rey supposed it was the next best thing. It still made her blush to follow through on the suggestion though. Instead of spitting directly onto his cock, she aimed for the palm of the glove, then wrapped her hand around him again and made another experimental stroke. "Better?"

"Mmm--" he managed around the fingers in his own mouth. Rey had expected him to stop at the scandalous lick, but he seemed to be enjoying it, enjoying _her_. 

Working her hand over his length -- swiping her thumb over his tip to collect dribbles of precum -- Rey reciprocated his appreciation of her anatomy. "You know, Dr. Solo, I thought you'd be large. Given the size of your hands, your long fingers. But, I didn't expect your cock to be this beautiful."

Following her last words, Rey kissed the bulbous head lightly. Above her, Dr. Solo groaned. His ungloved hand touched the side of her cheek, though he didn't say anything. For a brief moment, their eyes locked -- a dance of sable brown and green-streaked hazel -- and Rey knew: he was hers. Whatever their earlier dynamic, she had the power now, the control.

Letting her lips part, Rey took him inside her mouth without breaking eye contact. Curling her tongue under his girth, she cradled him in wet heat, sinking on him until her nose brushed the side of her hand. Dr. Solo's head angled up until all he could see was the ceiling. His hand ventured from her cheek to her hair, fingers carding through her chestnut tresses and tugging gently. It wasn't a command; it was as though he needed a tether, something to hold him steady or risk floating away.

Rey hummed and hollowed her cheeks as she drew her head back an inch or so, then pressed forward again. Soon, her head bobbed in a slow, steady rhythm, always sucking on the regress and caressing him with her tongue when she took him in deeper. Her hand joined in, cupping and massaging his balls before wrapping around the base and twisting in tandem with her head’s motions.

Dr. Solo’s breathing was ragged as she continued, only taking breaths when absolutely necessary. She wasn’t brave enough to bury him in the back of her throat -- not this time. But she would have happily swallowed his cum if he hadn’t whispered her name.

“Rey. Please, stop.”

She obeyed immediately, taking shallow breaths herself, and looked up to discern the reason for his request. It couldn’t be the friction this time: his cock was coated in a mix of her saliva and his pre-ejaculate. Stumped, she questioned, “Does it not feel good? How can I make it better?”

He fingered a lock of hair which had fallen across her forehead, rubbing the strands with what she thought was affection. “Any better,” he claimed, “and this night will end prematurely, sweetheart.” 

Her cheeks blazed at the praise; here she was, thinking she was so out of practice he was saving her from embarrassing herself. Clearly, that was not the case. “Oh.”

“Rey, I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he clarified further, bending slightly to help lift her from the floor. He kept her close, barring his arm across her lower back while keeping the other hand on the side of her face. Trailing a line of hot kisses from her chin to her ear, he whispered, “I want to fuck you senseless, Ms. Niima. Right here, where you’ve been working so hard for me all day.” His teeth caught her earlobe and Rey let out a startled gasp. “Would you like that?”

Was she dizzy from just standing up or from the dark promise in his voice? She was infinitely glad for his strong arms, because -- _fuck_ \-- she needed the support. After a declaration like that, a girl needed a firm embrace to swoon in. Not that she was going to swoon in Dr. Solo’s arms. She snaked hers around his neck, just in case.

“‘Senseless,’ huh?”

He’d moved on to her neck, tonguing over her pulse. “I want to overwhelm you, Rey.”

Her hands edged out over his shoulders. “You already do, Dr. Solo. There’s--” She raised her leg just slightly, until her bare thigh made contact with his cock and pulled a gruff noise from his throat. “--so much of you.”

“And you took it so well,” he responded, expertly lifting her shirt and bra over her head and off her arms, continuing his attentions along her collarbone as if he hadn’t been interrupted by her clothes at all. “In your sweet, sweet mouth,” he added, head coming back up from her chest to kiss her soundly. When he pulled away, he held her gaze. “Will you show me how well you can take me in your delicious cunt?”

Rey’s eyes nearly rolled into her lids, wondering if she’d faint from a direct question like that. Somehow, she managed to breathe and whisper, “Yes, Sir.” Almost as an afterthought, she asked, “You have a condom, right?”

“Would it surprise you to learn I was once a Boy Scout?”

His lips had settled on her left nipple, making it impossible to comprehend how his question aligned with her own. “What?”

Using his teeth to scrape her rosy bud into a hard peak, he explained, “I learned two things from my singular camp experience: how to tie sturdy knots, and to always be prepared.”

Rey’s hands fisted into his hair while he attended to her other nipple and tugged him away from her skin so she could focus. Her voice quaked over having to repeat her initial question. “You have a condom, right?”

If he didn’t, she had half a mind to let this ride out anyway, but a condom would give her the peace to enjoy it.

“Yes, sweetheart.” He extended an arm out for his suit jacket on the nearby stool and produced a foil square from an inner pocket. “I told you I would take care of it, and you.”

Her relief must have been apparent on her face, for Dr. Solo cupped it in both of his hands and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips in a tender, reassuring way. All the while, he inched her back until her ass hit the side of the work station.

It stood higher than a traditional desk, which made it the perfect height for bending over and flattening her chest against it. She had envisioned Dr. Solo taking her from behind on this desk; however, he seemed to have other ideas. His large hands roamed over her ass, then gripped the backs of her thighs to help lift her onto the cluttered surface. Rey quickly glanced down at the worktop to make sure there were no needles, scissors, or other tools that would lead to blood.

His bare hand wedged between her thighs, rubbing over her folds. “Still slick,” he said in an approving tone. “Are you ready for this?”

Her knees rose until they could settle on his sides, bumping against his ribs. She had to scoot toward the lip of the worktop, giving him better access. The throbbing from her earlier orgasm had faded to nothing; however, it would only take the slightest touch to reignite the embers in her belly and turn them to flames.

Rey rested on her elbows, reclining on the worktop as much as she could. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my girl,” he returned with a smile.

The least composed she’d seen him, Dr. Solo fumbled with the condom wrapper. In the end, he had to bite the end of his glove’s middle finger and remove it in order to open the foil and unroll the latex onto his erection. Rey’s eyes zoned in on the hypnotic way the leather glove dangled and swayed between his teeth. She looked down at its twin on her own hand and a pang of guilt shot through her as she took it off.

“These are ruined,” she lamented.

Both of Dr. Solo’s hands captured her own after he finished with the condom. He took the glove from her and paired it with the one he’d worn, laying them on the worktop delicately. “They’re not ruined,” he corrected her gently. “They’re claimed. They’re yours and yours alone.”

“Dr. Solo,” Rey protested, though her face felt hot at his words. “They can’t be used again. Leather absorbs--”

He cut off what would have been a scientific explanation of bacteria growth and hygiene with a sharp kiss that left her absolutely breathless. She forgot all about the gloves, swept away by the warmth of his hands and the heady feeling that followed desire. His obvious want for her made her giddy. A wave of heat spread over her body from her neck down.

He palmed each breast. Already small to begin with, they were further dwarfed by his enormous hands, disappearing completely beneath them. Rey caressed his forearms as he tweaked both nipples in tandem, moaning under the manipulation.

When his mouth closed over one bud and sucked, Rey’s sex throbbed in protest. It didn’t want to be ignored any longer. Curving her torso so her nose was buried in his hair, Rey murmured, “Please, Dr.--. Sir.” His teeth bit into her skin enough to make her gasp. “Please, I need--”

Sentences were beyond her now, it seemed. He'd plunged her into a realm of uncontrollable reactions and overwhelming sensations, just as he'd wanted. She was fighting for a modicum of resolve, to not let the tidal wave bearing Dr. Benjamin Solo's name to drag her under the water and drown her -- though she was sure that was his intent. Rey had to keep her head above the surface, to gulp in air when she could, or she'd be lost.

As he finally -- finally -- sank into her, Rey was fully submerged beneath the current. Her hands grappled for something to hold on to, nails clawing marks on his biceps and upper back.

"Slow." The word broke through like an SOS. Did she want him to rock into her at an agonizingly careful pace? No. Not in the least. But it had been a year since her last hookup and, as wet as she was, his dick was still a formidable force. Her hands wove their way into his hair while he inched back and pressed forward again, deeper this time. She released a sound that was half satisfaction, half warning. "Huge. You're so--"

"Look at me, Rey."

She hadn't even realized her eyes were closed until he gave the command. Blinking them open, she saw once more the look in his eyes that said he was famished and she was a succulent meal set before him. She really could get used to that expression.

"Look," he reiterated, eyes flicking to the point where their bodies joined. 

She obeyed. Seeing herself stretched around his cock turned her on even more than she already was. Had she really taken it all inside her? Her inner muscles tightened as if to check, eliciting a grunt from the man patiently waiting to fuck her into oblivion. It made her shiver.

“You’re so tight,” he remarked with an edge of concern. “Is it--are you okay?”

So, she wasn’t the only one who was having trouble with words. That was encouraging.

Rey swiveled her hips on the worktop and locked her ankles across his lower back, nudging him closer. He was already fully seated inside her, but the minute movement of his legs and pelvis set her pulse racing. While he said she felt tight, Rey didn’t feel any sting or discomfort. She was ready for him -- more than ready.

Caressing the back of his neck, Rey brought their lips together in a carnal, open-mouthed kiss where she attempted to communicate her desires with her tongue. Dr. Solo gave a few slow, experimental thrusts, each one meeting with less resistance as her wetness coated his cock. 

Moaning against her mouth, his hands gripped the sides of her thighs, preparing to pick up the pace. “I need an answer, Rey.” He sounded stern, but a note of desperation chimed through on the second word.

She kissed him again, this time catching his bottom lip between her teeth and biting down until she left an indentation. Soothing it with her tongue, Rey whispered against his lips, “Fuck me, Sir.”

His hands gripped her hips with more intent. “Say that again.”

She already knew which of the three words triggered his desire, so she emphasized it. “Fuck me. _Sir._ ” 

He drew back until only his cock’s tip was inside her, then snapped his hips forward in a hard thrust. She saw stars, but reminded herself to keep her eyes open. More than anything, she wanted to watch him as he rutted into her. With a whimper, Rey’s arms fell to either side of her body, grasping the lip of the worktop to keep herself in place. If he kept thrusting like that, he’d screw her right over the other side of the station.

“You’re incredible, sweetheart,” he praised, bringing their bodies together with increasing speed. “Simply incredible.”

Elated by his praise, she felt bold enough to make a request: “Make me come on your cock, Dr. Solo. Just like I did on your gloves.”

Perspiration made the dark strands around his face curl and stick to his forehead even as he tossed his glorious mane back to better meet her eyes. Somehow he extended his next stroke to near infinity, then paused when he was buried to the hilt. Rey whined with protest, her back arching to counteract his lack of movement. It wasn’t enough; her body craved him and the wonderful friction steering her toward another climax.

Dr. Solo planted a hand on the worktop on either side of her, caging her with his arms and broad chest. Rey’s nails scraped lightly from his hip bones over his ribs -- too firm to tickle, but making his skin twitch and seize all the same. She rested her hands against his sides, catching her breath while she had the chance.

“Rey--”

“Yes?” she asked innocently.

His dark eyes bore through her. “You want. . .” He trailed off, breaking away from her gaze to consider the gloves nestled together on the worktop. “You claimed my gloves for yourself.”

Rey’s nails made eight perfect crescents in his skin while she considered the gloves. She bit her bottom lip, then nodded. “I did.”

His attention was back on her. One measured rock of his hips let her know he was still there, filling her completely. “You’d claim me, too? Just like the gloves?”

For a hookup, it was a loaded question. But was this only a random hookup? Rey didn’t think so. Not when he looked at her like he was right now: tremulous hope reflected back at her. Maybe she couldn’t imagine where this thing would lead -- couldn’t see what the future held beyond a shadow and a dream -- but he felt solid beneath her hands, and the emotion in his eyes was clear. Whatever stretched ahead of them, this sudden connection was constructed of more than the fragility of lust and hormones.

“Yes, Sir.” She slipped her hands under his arms and up his chest, planting them on his pecs. Underneath her fingers, his heart pulsed a vibrant beat. “Just like the gloves.”

His shoulders sagged and sprang back to form, as if relieved of some heavy weight. She could feel his deep inhalation and the long, stuttered exhalation which followed. "I'd like that," he confirmed, leaning down to kiss her pink lips. "Very much."

Emotion swelled in her chest at the sincerity in his voice. She was going to make him hers.

Moving his hands over her legs, he persuaded her to unlock her ankles from his back with the merest touch, then stretched her legs up at a straight angle. Rey got the message, adjusting herself so that her ankles hooked over his shoulders instead of above his ass. The new position generated even more friction as he eased out of her and slid back in with guttural approval.

Rey's arms reached over her head to grasp the other side of the work top, allowing him to lift her lower back from the surface and suspend her ass in midair. From here, he didn't have to bend his knees as much to enter her.

His hands slid under her, cupping one ample cheek in each hand, then guided her onto his cock in one steady, controlled stroke. Rey's head lolled on the worktop. "How does that feel?"

"Fireworks," she told him. Dazzling eruptions happened all over her body -- lighting the dark behind her closed eyelids with sparks of color, fizzing waves of heat in her belly, popping like a finale in her pulse. He moved again, his thrust a match igniting another series of micro-explosions. Rey gasped in surprise at the intensity. "Sir!"

She could feel his fingertips press into her curves; he meant to gain her attention, so she peeked up at him with a curious expression.

With her legs propped on his chest, he couldn't lean forward much, but she had the sense he wished to be close to her. She released one hand off of the desk, holding on desperately with the other, and managed to ghost her fingertips over his cheek. "What is it?"

He hadn't stopped moving in and out of her, making it difficult to focus, but she tried her hardest.

"When you come. . ." he began, then dropped his voice an octave lower. "When you stake your claim, Rey, use my name."

She could do that. "Dr. Solo?"

He shook his head.

Rey's lips turned down briefly, before settling in a grin. "Benjamin has a lot of syllables," she teased.

"Ben," he supplied on a moan as he slid into her again. "Call me Ben."

It was such a soft name -- curved at the edges and almost insubstantial when whispered. It didn't match the man who was driving into her now, his abdomen composed of hard lines and his frame anything but fragile. She could let loose a strong exhalation and give it as much weight as his name.

Rey loved it, relished it for what it was: a gift. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that few of his previous partners -- if any -- had been granted the same.

"Ben," she cried when he canted his hips _just so_ , and his cock hit that tender place inside her. She nearly let go of the station entirely, then compensated by clutching the edge until her knuckles went white. "Please. Fuck. Please--."

Rey couldn't string her thoughts together. Dr. Solo -- _Ben_ \-- helped her by repeating the motion. 

"Yes," she keened, on the precipice of an explosive orgasm. "Again. Please."

Not only did he oblige her, he shifted his hands until he could support her with one, fingers splayed over her lower back, while the other wrapped around the front of her thigh and stroked through her folds. He found her clit with admirable speed, rubbing it with just enough pressure to tantalize her with a promise.

"Would you like to come, Rey?"

For fuck's sake, yes. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, teasing her like this. She'd give him credit after this was over. Drawing out her release made it that much sweeter. Right now, though, all she wanted was to cut loose the iron-hot tension coiling inside her.

Risking the danger again, Rey let her left hand go, smacking it against the worktop to drive home her point. "Yes." She hit the wood beneath her a second time, nails clawing against the lacquer; this time, it was to distract herself and add: "You too."

"I'm there." The suave note in his voice was gone instantly, as if he'd been holding on for her to say something. Against the backs of her thighs, she could feel his abs contract, the muscles tensing. He really was ready to spill over.

"Harder," she instructed, bucking her hips up. Though she meant for him to increase the pressure against her clit, she wasn't disappointed when his erratic thrusts held an extra punch, too.

" _Rey._ "

He was going to come. Exquisite, anguished lines of rapture creased his brow and the corners of his mouth as his jaw tightened. His fingers lost all rhythm, mashing down and stroking over her clit and anything else in near proximity. Had he done it any earlier, she wouldn't have gotten off a second time. Luckily, it happened at the exact moment she shot off into space, bursting around his cock in powerful spasms that dragged him along for the ride.

He gripped her hips with both hands, thrusting to her core one last time. While the condom prevented him from coating her walls with his cum, she melted into the warmth he generated within her. Gently he lowered her until her back rested once more on the worktop. One of Rey's legs slid from his shoulder to hook around his waist, silently telling him she didn't want him to move away yet, didn't want him to withdraw.

His left hand smoothed up her the bottom of her right leg. "Shh. . ." he intoned tenderly. "Your flagpole has been planted."

Rey closed her mouth, but his name still vibrated in her throat. She hadn't realized it had been streaming from her lips on repeat. Her ears pinked at the amused expression on his face, but her embarrassment was short lived. Ben turned his face into her leg and kissed her calf before lowering it to his waist as well.

He began to inch back, but Rey tightened her legs around him. "Not yet," she said, reaching up to touch his chest.

Inside her, his cock had gone flaccid. "Rey, the condom."

She made a sound of discontent, then reluctantly released him so he could remove the contraceptive. "There's a bin under the desk."

He bent down and efficiently dispensed with the condom. Rey would need to make sure she took the garbage out before Jyn and Cassian's return on Monday. On his way up, Ben peppered her legs and inner thighs with kisses that had her humming her appreciation.

Rey sat up straight on the desk, carding her fingers through his silky hair and combing out the few kinks. He was kneeling in front of her, hands massaging her calves while his mouth trailed closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. When he switched to the opposite side, he murmured incoherent praises into the air, eyes upturned to watch her.

"Ben--" She stalled. "Can I call you Ben? Now that we're--?" She didn't want to say _done_ : it felt too final. They couldn't be _done_ done, right? This was a beginning, wasn't it?

His words reassured her. "Please. Your voice lends a simple name such alluring complexity." His hands moved to rest on the top of her thighs. "I enjoy hearing you say my name, Rey."

“Okay.” Her nails scraped against his scalp, earning her an extra groan of pleasure. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

“What do--? I’ve never--.” After the second false start, she took a breath and cast her glance around the work room. It was too difficult to focus when his eyes were drinking her in. Mercifully, they fell on the riding crop she’d repaired, giving her something to latch on to.

Abandoning his hair, Rey picked up the crop, bringing it before his face. “At least I can send you home with something,” she said. Color rose to her cheeks as he touched the tip with one exploratory finger. “I swear I didn’t use this earlier. So, you can use it to--” She bit her lip, buttoning up the last word as she remembered: “You canceled your plans for tomorrow.”

What did it mean? She’d only had a moment to process his admission in the heat of thing, too lost in how close he was to kissing her. Now, in the following quiet of their experience, it seemed supremely important.

“I did,” he confirmed. Standing up, he gently took the crop from her, holding it horizontally in both hands. With a lightning quick motion, he snapped the leather tongue against the palm of his hand, though his gaze remained glued on her face. “That doesn’t mean I can’t use it. I did promise to tell you how I employ my tools.” A wide grin broke out across his face. “Perhaps I could show you instead?”

Rey didn't consider herself a kinky person by default, but there were many things she'd never explored with her previous partners. And, after the high he'd given her with just the gloves and himself, Rey wondered what other experiences he could expose her to if she gave him the chance. He was watching her carefully, gauging her response.

"Would that make you my teacher?"

He laid the crop across her thighs, then rested his hands on either side of her hips. Curving his body over hers, he leaned in and kissed her. Rey's hands weren't so disciplined, scooping up fistfulls of hair and deepening the kiss as much as he would let her.

"Sweetheart," he started as he drew his mouth away, "with how you responded to me, fuck, with the way your body took me in and--." For the first time since meeting him, he appeared to be speechless.

"It's okay," Rey assured him, swiping her thumb over his cheek. "I feel it, too."

He placed another light kiss on her lips and raised his right hand to her cheek. Finally, he collected himself enough to smile. "You don't need a teacher, Rey."

She slung her arms over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrists, and shrugged casually. "Too bad. I think I still have an old school uniform buried in my closet."

She got out a mischievous wink before he closed his eyes on a groan. Large, warm hands alighted on her sides and guided her to join him in standing. Rey propped herself against him, relishing the exchange of heat their bare bodies shared.

"You're making this difficult," he said, opening his eyes to level her with a pointed gaze.

"What's that?"

"I'm trying to do the proper thing and ask you to dinner." The exasperation in his voice was exaggerated; it made Rey giggle.

"Ben, I think we bypassed proper when you told me to touch myself with your glove." Saying the words prompted them to both look down at the used and discarded gloves. A surge of shyness made her turn back to his chest and nuzzle against it, hiding her blush. "Dinner would be nice."

He twisted one arm to look at his watch -- the only accessory still on his body. "We won't make it."

"Won't--?"

Shifting the slightest degree, Ben cut off her question with a solid answer pressed against her lower abdomen. Though he wasn't fully erect, she sensed his own refractory period was faster than her own. "Oh." She paused and tilted her head in thought. "Breakfast then? Or a late dessert? I never did get my cheesecake."

“Cheesecake.” It was an agreement. 

Rey knew she should be locating and pulling on her clothes, but her arms wrapped around his waist instead. “I know a diner that will box slices to go.”

One eyebrow raised. “And where would you like to go, Rey?”

She kissed the space above his sternum. “Anywhere with a bed.”

He laughed, one hand stroking over her head. “That can be arranged. Shall we get dressed?”

It didn’t take them long to shuffle back into their clothes. Rey left the shop in disarray, knowing there was an entire weekend between now and her bosses’ return. She looked over the space, heart quickening as she remembered what they’d done. After a moment, she felt Ben at her back; he was dressed and ready.

“Ah,” he murmured, then reached out to take the gloves from the worktop. “Can’t forget these.”

“I thought they were my prize?” she asked as she turned to face him.”I claimed them.”

He tucked the gloves into his jacket’s inner pocket. “You claimed _me_ ,” he corrected, then patted his chest pocket from the outside to ensure all was secure.

“And if I want both?”

He smiled. “As I mentioned, sweetheart: I’m enthusiastically supportive of indulgences.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking this journey with me!  
> I am enthusiastically supportive of comments/kudos. ;)


End file.
